


The Preferred Term

by pokey_jr



Series: Only Sequences Change [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor is always learning, F/M, POV Second Person, blowjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 12:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15340074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pokey_jr/pseuds/pokey_jr
Summary: You’ve managed to get the button of his slacks open, and his fly halfway down before he finally voices a question that gives you pause. Out of all his wide-eyed protestations—that you’re in the observation room of the precinct, anyone could walk in, this is an inappropriate use of government facilities—“But what pleasure doyouderive from it?”**Connor, bless him, always tries his best to understand, even when he's receiving illicit oral sex at work.





	The Preferred Term

You’ve managed to get the button of his slacks open, and his fly halfway down before he finally voices a question that gives you pause. Out of all his wide-eyed protestations—that you’re in the observation room of the precinct, anyone could walk in, this is an inappropriate use of government facilities—

“But what pleasure do _you_ derive from it?” He’s seated on one of the swivel chairs, the back of it to the door, and you’re on your knees in front of him. His hands fidget on each armrest, not nervous, but you know him. It’s what he does when he’s processing anything new and unfamiliar, and you’d confiscated his favorite quarter earlier to buy yourself a gumball.

The remains of which you now take out of your mouth and stick to the underside of the desk. You contemplate his question as you guide him to lift his hips briefly. Tug the material of his slacks down, just enough. Fine grey wool, like the rest of his uniform, and it always smells crisp and clean. He pushes his boxers down for you, and holds his erect cock by the base for you to inspect.

You look up at him with a small smile, and _god_ he’s perfect. He tilts his head returning your gaze, his eyes kind, yet searching. You’d known already that he isn’t a Ken doll, had felt the ridge of his erection pressing against your ass during one unintentionally intimate stake-out. That had ignited an insatiable curiosity, and you know he’s just as inquisitive about certain things.

You lick your lips, mouth watering, and the low pulse of arousal you can’t deny blooms to something fuller in your core.

“You are aroused.” He states, at the moment you choose to lean in and swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, and his breath hitches.

“Mouth-to-genital contact causing elevated heartrate, dilated pupils, production of sexual lubrication fluid by glands located around the vaginal canal, indicating that the body is preparing for sexual interc—“

“Connor.” You shoo his hand out of the way, hold his thick shaft yourself, and lick a hot stripe from base to tip.

“Yes?” His voice nearly breaks.

“When I have your dick in my mouth, let’s not use the phrase ‘vaginal canal’.”

“What is the preferred term, Detective?”

At last, you take him in completely, and hear him give a moan of surprise and delight. Out of the corner of your eye you see his hand on the armrest clench to a fist. You bob your head slowly, fingers wrapped around his cock and moving at the same, languid rhythm. His skin is hot and silky, only slightly salty. The thought crosses your mind that maybe he can’t cum. Or won’t? Maybe androids can maintain erections indefinitely, and oh _no_ what if he ejaculates blue blood? Or blue cum, or--

Who cares. Who _cares_ , when his preternatural calm is fraying into his hips rising to meet your hand and mouth. When he makes sweet sounds like that, little whimpers that make you weak, make you want to abandon this exploration and tell him to get up and bend you over the desk and fuck you already. But.

One of his hands comes to the back of your head, tangles in your hair. Nothing forceful, but firm enough to remind you of the secret you share with him: he _is_ Deviant. And don’t underestimate him.

You flick your eyes up with your mouth around his shaft. His lips are parted, cheeks tinged pink. He has been engineered to be unfairly handsome, but all these reactions, _this_ is all him.

“Don’t stop, Detective.” And how can you? You’ve never heard his voice like that before, hoarse with lust, a hint of desperation. You must see this to the end, see what he’s like when his composure shatters. He starts to guide your pace with his hand on your head, and it occurs to you, distantly, that he has preferences. He has desires and curiosities. Fantasies?

You start to take him deeper, the thick head of his cock touching the back of your throat with each stroke down and up. Breathe. Your body hums, you’ll have to take care of yourself when you get home.

He’s not noisy when he begins to come apart. Not quiet, but not noisy. A subdued groan, as if he wants to be louder and doesn’t know how. His hips arch to your touch, his hand tightens in your hair, his cock stiffens more and he stills, trembling as he cums. You taste his essence, salty and musk, and, yes, a hint of blue blood. 

Only when he relaxes do you swallow and pull away, licking him clean, because who knows when you’ll get to do this again. He pushes the chair back and stands, tucks himself away so he looks as immaculate as before you’d gotten him in here. Then he offers you a hand, helps you to your feet.

“Are you well, Detective? You appear… unsteady.”

You clear your throat and smooth your skirt. You _are_ unsteady, you’re a wet wreck and you just remembered you have overdue patrol reports you need to complete before going home. “I’m fine.” He’ll see through the lie, whether or not he’ll press you on it, though…

“What was the preferred term you referenced earlier? Building my databank of situational protocols would greatly aid me in my mission to assist you.”

You sigh. “It’s ‘pussy’, Connor. As in, I want you to eat my…”

His eyebrows go up incrementally, before a wry smile quirks one side of his mouth, and goddamnit but it makes your heart flutter. You shake your head. Not nearly as innocent as he claims his programming makes him, and he was probably just humoring you.  
He stands a little straighter, typical rigid android posture, and intones pleasantly, “I see. Well, if you say so, Detective.” And then he winks at you.


End file.
